


Of longing and devotion

by diebrando



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Gentle Sex, M/M, Not really that explicit tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diebrando/pseuds/diebrando
Summary: Izaya is not the right person for him to love, he’s been said. He’s a coward. He’s manipulative, evil, and childish. He’s no good, he’s not right in the head. The same people also call Shizuo a violent, bloodthirsty beast. The epitome of violence.He thinks he's not allowed to have love for anyone, but, ah–it should be fine if it’s Izaya, right?
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Of longing and devotion

Shizuo cannot focus.

He should be watching the television, focusing on the characters and the argument they’re having, as Izaya will probably tease about it later if he has nothing profound to say about the scene. But–as it stands, he cannot do that.

Izaya has been subtly getting closer to him. At first, he sat an arm’s length away, seemingly content on glancing at him every now and then between the comments he had on the movie. Now, their thighs are almost touching, Izaya’s warmth seeping into him, and he has no idea when that had happened.

Slowly, Shizuo tears his gaze away from the screen, turning his head to glance at Izaya. He almost lets out a gasp as he notices Izaya’s sharp, predatory eyes already on his. The smile formed onto his thin mouth widens.

Shizuo forces his features into a scowl. “What?”

Without saying anything, Izaya leans towards him, and Shizuo’s heart stutters in his chest. But, all Izaya does is grab the remote on the opposite side of him and turn off the television, leaving them to silence. Before Shizuo can open his mouth, Izaya’s eyes finds his again, silencing him with a look. “I’m hard.”

Roughly, Shizuo chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You see, I’ve been thinking,” Izaya says, shifting even nearer, slow. His arm comes to rest behind Shizuo’s head, and suddenly, Izaya seems to be leaning towards him, his face too close to his. “I want to make you feel good.”

The tightness in Shizuo’s chest grows, and he feels it crawling up to his throat, making him unable to speak. He gulps, feeling only dryness.

Izaya shifts yet again, moving his other leg over Shizuo’s legs. He straddles his lap, both his hands now in Shizuo’s hair. He feels them caress him lightly, moving over the tangles of his hair. He tries not to think of the bulge against his stomach.

Izaya buries his face into Shizuo’s neck. “I’m not sorry for the things I have done to you in the past, or the things I will do to you in the future. You already know that. But,” he stops to peck at Shizuo’s neck, making shivers go down his spine, “at the same time, I do want to make it up to you. I don’t think I deserve you.”

“Are you drunk?” Shizuo asks, his voice wavering. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Maybe so. But Shizu-chan, you… I just feel so much for you, so much that it’s not a lie when I say I hate you.” He feels Izaya’s grin widen. “Let me worship you tonight, okay? I’ll let you be my god–a god, which I’ve always pretended to be.”

“A god? Aren’t you an atheist?”

“That’s exactly why I can treat you like a god. Because you’re the only one for me.”

As Izaya says it, he raises his head from the crook of Shizuo’s neck. He looks down at Shizuo, a borderline manic grin on his face; the sharp twist of his mouth is almost too wide on his face, the row of his teeth flashing bright. Shizuo feels like a prey, ready to be eaten, vulnerable under the stare.

Izaya brings his lips down to press them against Shizuo’s. Izaya’s lips cannot be called soft–he is all angles, his bones sticking out, and the same goes for his mouth. His lips are almost nonexistent, his mouth just a thin line, but nevertheless his kiss is so gentle that it makes Shizuo’s insides feel soft. It’s so unlike the expression on Izaya’s face, and Shizuo feels dizzy.

Against his lips, Izaya sighs. His grin hasn’t faded. “What do you say?”

Shizuo falters. Izaya’s breath is warm against his lips, and, oh–when Shizuo listens, he notices how uneven it is, like the air Izaya breathes is filled with carbon dioxide, making it hard for him to take air into his lungs. Shizuo brings his hand up Izaya’s cheek, dragging him away from his face.

Izaya’s grin only widens. His eyes are glistening with a look Shizuo has difficulty placing, but he knows he has seen it before–probably on Izaya’s face before, when he has stood on top of a high building and watching the world above him burn. Now, all that passion was for him.

With a drag of his thumb against Izaya’s bony cheek, Shizuo relents. “You’re creepy. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Does that mean you accept my offer?” A hint of a genuine smile appears on Izaya’s face.

“Yes.”

Izaya’s lips find his, again, and they stay there for a minute, searching, before moving lower. They drag along Shizuo’s jaw, moving down to his Adam’s apple, before ending up kissing his pulse. Shizuo is sure Izaya can feel the rapid beating of his heart and shivering skin, but he closes his eyes under the touch, defeated.

The tickling breath is moving onto his ear, and Shizuo can’t stop the airy laugh leaving his lips. Izaya takes Shizuo’s earlobe between his teeth, and tugs. That finally breaks Shizuo–his laughter grows, body shaking with it, and on reflex he lifts his shoulders up, accidentally trapping Izaya’s head between his head and shoulder.

Izaya yelps, and retreats with a laugh.

“Izaya, please, I –”

“Oh, Shizu-chan, you brute,” Izaya laughs. It’s a shrilly laugh, and despite always associating it with malice, staring at Izaya’s wide-blown pupils now makes Shizuo want to reconsider everything, take away all his memories and rearrange them differently, in a different light. “Please, I, what?”

“Nothing. I meant,” Shizuo blinks, twice, “nothing.”

“If you say so.”

Izaya’s eyes stay on his; the irises are thin, brown rings around the black of his pupil, and for a moment Shizuo can almost see them flash red under the soft light. His lashes dip downwards, their blackness a sharp contrast against his white skin. Slowly, Izaya’s hands fall from Shizuo’s hair, dragging down along his sides with his fingertips, leaving a trail of warmth behind. They dip under Shizuo’s shirt, and without further ado, he’s removing the shirt. Shizuo lets him.

Shizuo, his heart in his throat, relaxes beneath Izaya’s worshiping fingers and mouth. The shirt off, Izaya kisses his shoulder blades, his neck, his shoulders. Izaya’s hair feels smooth under Shizuo’s fingers, and when Izaya sticks his tongue out to lick down his chest, he grips the locks of hair tighter. Izaya moans, pleased.

It’s strange seeing Izaya, the notorious troublemaker of Shinjuku and Ikebukuro alike–the enemy he has sworn to kill–falling apart before him like this. Shizuo can only see the top of his head, his slick, black hair shifting and tickling his stomach and abdomen. Breathing heavily, Izaya removes his lips. He looks Shizuo with dark eyes.

“Shall we move to a more comfortable place? Like, say, a bedroom?”

Shizuo’s pulse spikes. The reality of the situation is beginning to dawn to him. “My bedroom?”

“Yes,” Izaya says, slowly, like Shizuo is an idiot, “your bedroom. Unless you feel like going to my place, but I don’t think either of us feels like the train trip is worth it. I want you now.”

Shizuo manages to keep his voice even and low. “Sure.”

“Sure, he says,” Izaya huffs. He slides down to the floor from Shizuo’s lap and stands up. His hand is stretched towards Shizuo, palm up. “Shall we?”

For Izaya telling him that he’d treat Shizuo like his god, Izaya himself looks an awful lot like a god himself; his hair is ruffled from Shizuo’s fingers, falling to his forehead messily, and the wide grin and unfocused eyes make his expression distorted, unreal.

Shizuo lets him take his hand. The fingers wrapped around Shizuo’s tighten the hold as he gets up. He has never noticed how long the fingers are, how delicate and white, nothing compared to Shizuo’s own. Still, nothing about Izaya could be called delicate, so Shizuo isn’t surprised about the roughness of the grip, his bony, cool fingers digging into Shizuo’s. 

The tapping of their feet echo in the room as Izaya tugs him through the living room into the bedroom. Faintly, Shizuo thinks of the lights being left on behind them, of how it will affect his electricity bill, but then Izaya suddenly stops, and all the attention is turned to him again–the curve of his shoulders, the black, slick hair shining in the dim, almost dark room.

As they cross the border to the bedroom the sight of his bed, carefully made this morning, makes his steps falter. Never would he have thought that Izaya, of all people, would be leading him here. Izaya, who is looking at him over his shoulder, their hands still connected.

“Would you turn on the lights?” Izaya asks, his face unusually serious. “No point in doing it in the dark.”

“Why?” Shizuo asks, dumbly, even though he’s fairly sure he knows the answer already.

“So that I can see you shivering and writhing under me when I make you come, of course.”

Shizuo feels his face warm up. Yes. Izaya is an observer, after all. He reaches with his free hand to flick the lights on. Brightness fills the room.

Izaya lets go of his hand to remove the bedcover, throwing it on the foot of the bed. He sits on the bed, crosses his legs, and looks up at Shizuo. A crooked smile forms on his face. Shizuo can’t even begin to think of what his expression looks like–he is just standing there, before Izaya, eyes trailing his thin legs, frozen and unable to look away. He doesn’t even have his shirt on.

Taking a step forward he reaches towards Izaya, trying to touch his cheek with the palm of his hand, but as he gets near, Izaya grabs ahold of his wrist to stop him.

“No,” he says, “I will be the one touching you. Get on the bed.”

Shizuo feels his adrenaline spike. “Why do you think you can order me around like that?”

“Because I know you.”

Who the fuck does he think he is? Shizuo’s fists clench. The nervousness is gone in a second, and he plunges towards Izaya, grabbing both his wrists and pinning him to the bed.

Izaya lets Shizuo take him down with him. Caged under Shizuo’s body, between his arms and knees, Izaya chuckles. In the bright room, Shizuo’s body casts a shadow over Izaya–still, there is no mistaking the want in his calm eyes, and the sudden tenseness in his shoulders. Izaya’s hands lay relaxed on the bed as Shizuo squeezes them tighter, so tight that he can feel the pulse. His fingers wrap easily around his wrists, and for a while, Shizuo has the terrifying thought that he is crushing them, but then, the grin on Izaya’s face widens.

“You really are a beast, aren’t you? Are you trying to assert your dominance? I have to say, it’s not really working.”

“It isn’t? I could crush you, y’know.”

“Oh, but you will not,” Izaya answers sweetly. His gaze on Shizuo is steady, as if he sees straight through him.

Shizuo surrenders, loosening the hold on his wrists. He lowers himself on Izaya’s body and lets his head fall on his chest, his ear against Izaya’s heart. “Yeah.”

Like he’d ever be able to crush Izaya, especially if he keeps acting like this.

Izaya’s fingers find their way to his hair. They’re stroking the strands away from his forehead, gentle, and massaging his scalp. The beating of Izaya’s heart is steady under his ear–so near, he can almost feel it pulsing, circulating the blood in his body, and oh, it’s not like Shizuo hasn’t known Izaya to be human, but it’s a startling realization to make that even he is restricted by the same things all humans are: the need to eat, to sleep, to–

Shizuo grins, knowing how manic it must seem, and opens his eyes.

Izaya is lost in his own world, his face in Shizuo’s hair; Shizuo can feel his hot breath coming out as puffs against his head, and the movement of his fingers has not stopped.

Taking a final breath of Izaya’s scent in–a clean, almost clinical smell–Shizuo rolls away from him. As Izaya’s eyes find his, he smiles, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you getting even harder when I pinned you to the bed, though.”

“Ah,” Izaya says. “He is an observant one, isn’t he? It’s just a natural reaction that one will give oneself up after a show like that from a beast such as you and, consequently, get turned on. My reasons are a bit different.” 

Before Shizuo can answer, to say out loud the _stop speaking in circles_ on his tongue, Izaya’s hand comes to grab his jaw. He twists Shizuo’s face up to meet his manically glistening eyes, dragging him so close so that he can feel the breath on his skin.

“Although I am intrigued with your superhuman strength, today is not the day you get to have your performance. I’ve seen enough on the streets, and it’s not like you’d want to treat me like that in bed. However,” Izaya breathes, and kisses Shizuo on the forehead, “I do get turned on the thought of how I’m going to tame you, to make such a mess out of you that wouldn’t even think of raising your fist against me.”

Shizuo is not generally one to feel fear, as the one he fears the most is himself. In this moment, though, a feeling so chilling shocks through him that he freezes, his mind going blank.

What has he got himself into? Momentarily he thinks of running away, of punching Izaya’s face so violently that his jaw cracks and blood spills, but the gentle hands on his shoulders make him halt. Shizuo is rolled off from Izaya’s chest, and then Shizuo is lying on his back, and then, oh, he’s being kissed.

Softness surrounds him, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, especially from Izaya–not like he’s ever had the chance to be gentle with anyone, for he’s used to people running away for their lives when he so much as looks at them. Once, in middle school, a girl wanted to hold his hand. As she did so, it startled him so much he accidentally gripped her hand so forcefully he heard her scream as her hand was being crushed in between his fingers.

It didn’t matter how much he cried for forgiveness or how much she screamed in either fear or agony–he was too ashamed to visit her in the hospital afterwards.

Izaya sweeps the hair away from Shizuo’s forehead. He deepens the kiss, and with a moan, Shizuo is pushed further into the mattress. His head is caged between Izaya’s arms, resting on the soft pillow. It’s warm, and instead of the feeling of uneasiness he was expecting, what he feels is comfort. Security.

Shizuo slides his hands on Izaya’s lower back, and makes slow, deliberate circles with the palms of his hands, grasping the naked skin under his shirt. He removes his mouth from Izaya’s, tugging at the shirt. “Take this off.”

“Okay,” Izaya mumbles, as his teeth find Shizuo’s ear. “Soon.”

Shizuo lets out a growl. “Not soon. Now.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” Izaya says. He strokes Shizuo’s cheek with one hand, the thumb caressing the shape of his cheekbone, and his other hand moves on top of Shizuo’s head, burrowing itself into his hair.

Funny for Izaya to accuse Shizuo of being impatient, as Izaya is the one whose hands are shaking and whose mouth is searching for his, frantic. Shizuo wants to say as much, but as he finds Izaya’s tongue in his mouth again, the thought leaves his head. He loses himself in the insistent touches, kisses, and brushes of his hands; they fumble around for a few minutes, until Izaya lets out a frustrated groan.

Izaya’s eyes are squeezed shut as he goes down on Shizuo’s neck, nibbling down on it. A faint _fuck_ leaves Izaya’s mouth, and he goes to remove his shirt.

“Finally, thank god, fuck,” Shizuo says. As he feels Izaya’s skin under his fingertips, caressing his back all the way up to his shoulders, he almost feels like crying of happiness. “It feels so good, your skin.”

Izaya snickers. “Didn’t take you for a religious man.”

“Shut up.”

He attacks Izaya’s neck, probably leaving marks behind with how much he’s using his teeth. Surprisingly, Izaya lets him have his fun, his chest heaving as his mouth moves against the skin. One of the arms Shizuo has on Izaya’s lower back moves down, starting to grope his ass. “What happened with you being the one touching me?”

“I figured I’d let you have your fun with me first, since you seem so keen on it.”

Shizuo lets out a breathy laugh. “Sounds like bullshit.”

“Hn.”

A strange kind of darkness radiates from Izaya, but Shizuo pays it no mind–after all, he manages to elicit needy sounds from Izaya, making him tremble against him, so whatever schemes he’s thinking will be sure to fail. Leisurely, they begin kissing again. Their chests, both bare, slightly brush against each other, and Izaya’s warmth seeps into him. He feels his skin heat up, his heartbeat quickening.

Izaya’s cool palm moves down on him, stopping onto his chest. With a final, deep kiss, Izaya removes his lips from his. Shizuo tries to catch his eyes but merely sees Izaya licking his lips and swiftly kissing his jaw, moving to the junction of his neck and shoulder, then his chest. Izaya traces a wet stripe down his chest with his tongue, and as he reaches his nipple, Shizuo shudders.

Greedy hands begin to trace Shizuo’s abdomen, all the while a hot tongue is sweeping along his chest, brushing his nipple. “You’re so firm. No wonder bullets won’t harm you, at least when they don’t pierce your vital points,” Izaya breathes against his skin, “like your heart, or lungs.”

Having said that, his palm goes up to his chest, laying against his heart. A strange, almost obsessive glint appears in Izaya’s eyes as he stares him down. “I wonder–how would you react if I had my knife with me now? If I took it out, and stabbed you through your heart? Would you be disappointed? Hate me? Would you let me near you like this ever again?”

Shizuo squints at Izaya, irritated. “I thought we were going to have sex.”

“We are. I’m just letting out my thoughts.”

“Please don’t. Your melodramatic babbling is making me pissed off.”

“Oh,” Izaya kisses his abdomen, “Really? Then, should I start whispering sweet nothings to you?”

“Anything is better than the unintelligible shit that just left your mouth,” he answers. What the hell is Izaya’s problem, anyway?

Feeling Izaya smile against his stomach, he bends his head to look at him. Izaya shifts his head so that his cheek rests against Shizuo’s body, and their eyes meet. The mess of his black hair is soft against his bare skin.

Shizuo feels his heart skip, violently.

Izaya’s gaze is sharp and filled with devotion. “I’ve longed for you.”

“You have?” Shizuo’s throat is painfully dry.

“Of course,” Izaya says simply. “I’m certain I’m not the only one. Have you seen the way people look at you?”

“What? They’re looking at me with fear in their eyes.”

Izaya closes his eyes, humming. “Maybe so,” he says. “Haven’t you seen the lust in their eyes, also? The fascination? Not that I can’t understand–you’re breathtaking. Lean body with long legs, square jaw, and fiery eyes like melted gold. That, combined with the reputation you have, is sure to get anyone hot and bothered.”

All the while Izaya’s talking, his hands keep wandering on Shizuo’s body, stroking Shizuo’s side, chest, bicep, everything he can reach. He feels his face growing hot.

Shizuo doesn’t really get it. He has always thought himself unnecessarily gangly and intimidating, something to be feared or messed with. The way Izaya is touching him like he’s something precious is making him lose his mind.

Startled, Shizuo feels his hand being pulled up from his side where it had fallen. Izaya unclenches his fist and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “To be honest, I’m not that interested in your looks. Your strength, of how it’s contained in such a delicate body, is what’s interesting. How can your mind handle it?”

“You’ve seen how I handle it. I blow shit up.”

“And you hate yourself for it,” Izaya says. “That’s the most interesting thing.”

Shizuo scoffs, but before he can answer, Izaya stops him, placing a finger to his lips. “That’s exactly why I hate you, but what also makes me crazy about you. You’re a self-conscious, unpredictable monster, trusting only your instincts. But, what I’ve been wondering is that if you rely on your instincts so much, how can you bear to be with me? Surely, your instincts are screaming for you to run away, or to hurt me.”

 _That’s not true_ , Shizuo thinks, but doesn’t say aloud. Shizuo’s instincts are the only think making him stay, demanding him to not leave Izaya alone. If he were thinking with his brain, he would not be here.

Shizuo groans, frustrated, and a smirk appears on Izaya’s face.

“Anyway,” Izaya chuckles, “I see you’re starting to lose your patience. Shall we?”

Before Shizuo can answer, Izaya continues down his body, making Shizuo grasp harshly at his hair. As he reaches the hem of Shizuo’s pants, he glances upwards. The smirk on his face is wild. Saying nothing, he merely opens the clasp and pulls down his zipper.

Shizuo feels everything inside him shatter.

Izaya works on him thoroughly, grasping his length and hips and thighs. It feels–good, really fucking good. Shizuo didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Izaya’s wet mouth taking him to heaven and back. He feels his legs twitch involuntarily on a particularly pleasurable swipe of Izaya’s tongue, and fuck, he must have knocked Izaya with his knee because he hears a quiet, pained groan, after which the movement stops. His blood runs cold.

Shizuo is about to open his mouth to apologize, to say anything, but stops as he hears a chuckle.

“Excited, are we?” Izaya laughs. “That was weak for your kick.”

Oh. Yeah. This is Izaya–the same man he is trying to kill on daily basis. Since when he has been afraid to hurt him? Still. “Sorry.”

Izaya keeps on chuckling but continues.

“Wait, do you,” Shizuo says between his groans, “have protection? What do we need? You seem to be the expert here.”

Izaya’s eyes are dark as he looks at him from under his eyelashes, his lips still around his dick. With a pop, he releases his mouth. “I have lube and condoms, so you don’t need to worry your head, Shizu-chan. Just let me take care of you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

The patterns on the ceilings are familiar, grounding him. He’s laid here, in this exact place, many times before–wanting to fall asleep, staring at the figures adorning the wooden ceiling, strange feeling of melancholy filling his chest. He’s craved something, someone, a different life maybe. Does he trust Izaya? _No_ , he thinks, but maybe if he gave the feeling a chance, he could–

“Yes,” he says, closing his eyes.

Izaya’s wet mouth is on his hip bone. “Would you be okay with me being inside you?”

“Yes.”

The warmth of Izaya’s body leaves him, but only briefly, as after the sound of rustling fabric the warmth is back and Izaya is close to him again, his mouth on Shizuo’s. He really is too bony for his own good. His cheekbone is sharp under Shizuo’s palm as he caresses it, and Izaya leaning into his touch is making his heart beat quicker.

Whatever is going on in Izaya’s head, he understands Shizuo’s desperate state enough to lower his other hand to his inner thigh, close to his length. “Have you had enough of the foreplay, Shizu-chan?”

 _No_ , he wants to say. _After all this is over, you’re just going to leave, aren’t you?_

Shizuo lets out a laugh. “Yes. Get on with it.”

Izaya raises on his elbows above him, their noses almost touching. He can feel his uneven breath, see the frantic, electric look in his eyes.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Izaya sighs before lowering himself on Shizuo’s body.

It’s not long before the rest of their clothes have been discarded, and all that’s left is Izaya’s skin on his, his mouth hovering over his stomach and hands on his thighs, dangerously near his length. Izaya’s mumbling to himself as he treats himself on Shizuo’s body, and all Shizuo can concentrate on is the way his body is feeling hotter and hotter by the minute.

It dawns to Shizuo that most of the touching is done by Izaya, but as he’s about to mention it, Izaya shushes him and grabs ahold of his hands, moving them away from his body.

“Let me have this, alright?” Izaya whispers in his ear, and with his other hand grabs the lubricant beside him.

Izaya Is gentle with him. He slides down his body, working him open with gentle hands while staring at his face with sharp, attentive eyes, and it should be creepy, but it isn’t.

When Izaya finally pushed inside him, his mind goes blank. It’s tight, the intrusion like nothing he’s ever felt, and he feels his grip on the bedsheet tighten dangerously. As a sound of ripping cloth is heard alongside a groan from Shizuo’s open mouth, a hand is placed on top of his. Izaya stills his movement, the tip of his dick inside Shizuo.

“Everything okay?” He murmurs into Shizuo’s neck. The arm he’s using to keep himself upright is shaking.

Shizuo takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Good. Try not to destroy the bed,” is Izaya’s answer. He pushes himself further in.

Shizuo’s answering groan is lower, longer than the previous one.

The bedpost thumps against the wall as Izaya drives into him rhythmically, his open mouth against his neck so that with every moan Shizuo can feel a hot, wet breath.

It’s overwhelming. The warmth, the strands of Izaya’s hair tickling his neck, the groans leaving Izaya’s mouth. He hits a spot inside him, and Shizuo sees stars.

“That’s right,” Izaya says, his voice on the edge of desperate, “Stay with me and I’ll treat you like this. I’ll be good. I promise, I promise.”

Shizuo makes another rip in the bedsheet. “Th-that’s hard to believe.”

“No. For you, I’ll try. You’re my god tonight, right?”

“No. We’ll go back to killing each other later,” Shizuo gasps. “This is just temporary truce.”

Izaya is not the right person for him to love, he’s been said. He’s a coward. He’s manipulative, evil, and childish. He’s no good, he’s not right in the head. He agrees with all of it, nods his head along when he’s being said so.

The same people also call Shizuo a violent, bloodthirsty beast. The epitome of violence. They say you should stay away from him, and he agrees.

Is he allowed to have love for anyone in the first place? No, he thinks. But, ah–it should be fine if it’s Izaya. No one is allowed to love Izaya but him.

He cannot hurt him, and the longer he’s being with him like this, the less he wants to.

The Izaya above him is everything but evil. There is loneliness in his eyes, and Shizuo thinks the same look must be reflected in his own eyes, too.

Izaya bites his neck. “You’ve always meant a lot to me, Shizu-chan,” he groans. “I’ve just never been honest with myself. Never allowed myself to be honest.”

Izaya’s other hand finds its place into Shizuo’s hair, and his hair is being swept off his forehead. Izaya’s eyes are boring into his, burning with a passion he faintly thinks is dangerously close to possessiveness, but he doesn’t care–he’s feeling warm, and safe, and being someone’s possession is not that wrong, right?

Izaya’s smile widens. “Such a good boy, aren’t you? That’s right. There’s no one else there to love you like I do, whole-heartedly and unafraid.”

As Shizuo comes, Izaya holds him through it. He cradles him with shaky hands, whispering into his ear, kissing his neck. It doesn’t take long for Izaya to come, either, as his hold on Shizuo gets stronger and more frantic and he can feel Izaya’s eyes on him, a groan against his chin.

He closes his eyes. His body is filled with warmth and his arms and legs are numb, all energy drained off him. Izaya is still laying on top of him, his hair tickling his throat, making him feel calmer than he probably should in the situation.

He takes a deep breath, and nudges Izaya’s shoulder. “Oi.”

Izaya’s nose is sharp against his chest, almost uncomfortably so. He doesn’t move away from him, instead burrowing himself against him more comfortably. The warmth, from both the room and from Izaya’s body, is starting to affect Shizuo, making him sweaty.

“Hey, it’s hot,” he says.

Izaya blinks, probably, as Shizuo can feel his lashes ticking him against his throat. “So?”

“So,” Shizuo groans, “get away from me.”

Surprisingly, Izaya rolls off him.

Izaya is leaning onto his palm, facing him with an odd look in his eyes and a slight pout on his mouth. “You want me to get away from you?”

Shizuo furrows his brows. “No. I wanted you to stop laying on me, ‘cause it’s hot.”

“Hn.”

Izaya’s eyes seem to glaze over, his gaze on the other side of the room, somewhere behind Shizuo.

“Izaya,” he sighs, “I want you to stay. Stop overcomplicating things.”

Izaya tears his gaze away from him and sits up on the bed. He raises to his feet, and without a word, exits the room.

If Izaya’s clothes weren’t thrown all over the bedroom, he would’ve thought Izaya left his apartment and his live for good. But, just like he thought, a second later he heard the noise of the bathroom tap being turned on, and the sound of water.

Izaya returns to the room and flicks off the lights. Darkness falls into the room, concealing Izaya’s expression and the uncertainness with it. Shizuo doesn’t comment on it.

“Do you have work tonight?” Shizuo asks.

It’s 11 pm. The room around them is dark save from the light coming from the living room–it casts a shadow on Izaya as he stands before Shizuo, a mere silhouette surrounded by a halo.

Izaya cocks his head, putting a hand on his hip. “Yes, actually.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise. Shizuo hums. “Is it important?”

“Why do you ask?” Izaya says, looking down at him. “Do you want me to stay or something?”

Shizuo wants him to stay. He can see that Izaya wants to stay, too. It’s pride, or fear, or both what keeps him from acting, what makes him act distant and god-like–which is stupid. It’s idiotic, Shizuo thinks. They have slept on the same bed together before, and now they have even done the deed, and suddenly Izaya wants to escape?

Izaya is a person who keeps on thinking in circles and sometimes saying his useless thoughts aloud, and there was a time when Shizuo probably would already have decked him in the face to stop him from thinking or talking too much, but now, to stop his overflowing thoughts, he wants to try something that doesn’t involve his fists.

It’s pretty clear how Izaya feels about him, thinking back on his words he said when he was high on sex. Shizuo feels the heat rising to his cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, he thinks, and speaks. “Yes. Don’t go to work.”

For a while, there is no answer. Shizuo can’t make himself to look at Izaya. He hears Izaya stepping out of the room, but soon, the sound of the steps come closer, stopping right beside him.

“Can I use your bath?”

Shizuo opens his eyes. It’s darker now, the light in the living room turned off. Izaya’s face is inches away from him, but Shizuo doesn’t do much as blink; his scent fills his lungs, and he feels himself relax. “Sure.”

Izaya smiles, genuinely. “I’ll be back soon, then.”

As he leaves, Shizuo stares after him. He feels like screaming, so like an adult, he burrows his face into the pillow. Why does staring at the flea make him feel so paralyzed? What was the hormone Izaya used to say was causing all the unneccessary feelings–oxytosin? That doesn’t feel right, somehow, that something as simple as that could be the cause of this whole mess.

As exhausted as he is, he dozes off. When he next opens his eyes, Izaya is burrowing under the blankets beside him, gingerly.

He notices Shizuo staring at him and moves to lie on his side to stare at him back. His cheek is mushed against the pillow, dark hair falling into his eyes, a sharp contrast against the pillow. His eyes are boring into Shizuo’s.

“I wasn’t lying before, but,” Izaya says, looking pained, “I said much more than I had planned.”

Shizuo closes his eyes. “You mean that possessive bullshit?”

“That, too.”

“What else was there?”

The bedsheets rustle as Izaya moves closer. He feels the warmth of Izaya against his arm. “Nothing much.”

“Then stop worrying.”

Izaya lets out a laugh. “I’m doing no such thing.”

Izaya wraps his arm over Shizuo’s chest, laying his head against it. Shizuo’s hand finds its way into Izaya’s wet, thin hair. It’s still too hot, but he finds himself not minding anymore. His blanket is crumpled somewhere beside him, the only source of heat being Izaya’s skin on his.

He feels Izaya sighing against him. “Just so you know,” he says, “I’m not an expert on this.”

“On what?”

“You said I’m an expert on this. I’m not.”

Shizuo furrows his brows. “Again, on what?”

“Sleeping with people.”

Shizuo is certain he knows what Izaya means by that, but he is tired, and annoyed by the beating around the bush. “Literally sleeping with people or having sex with people?”

Izaya raises his head from his chest, looking at him with sharp eyes. “Both, actually.”

“Oh,” Shizuo says, surprised. “Me too.”

“I know.”

Shizuo frowns. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I’m not planning to.”

The patterns on the ceiling are familiar, but he finds himself thinking that the body lying on top of him is, too. As long as there is someone for him to hold tight and to love, it’s all alright.

**Author's Note:**

> (it would be wise to also use protection when giving a bj, just saying)


End file.
